


Hydra's cottage for confused supersoldiers

by Chim



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bucky Barnes Feels, Confused Bucky Barnes, Fanart, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra Steve Rogers, M/M, Recovery, Sweet Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chim/pseuds/Chim
Summary: In the wake of Hydra's victory, Alexander Pierce orders the Captain to take care of the now-useless Winter Soldier.He really should have worded it a little better.Or: a smitten Captain decides he needs a break and takes the Winter Soldier with him. The Soldier is confused. Pierce is annoyed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out a lot softer and fluffier than it could've, but I'm really happy with it.  
One thousand thank yous to [GaFree](https://gafreesart.tumblr.com/) for the beautiful art you'll find at the end of the chapter! <3

When all was said and done, after the Helicarriers went up in the sky and Hydra brought order to the world, Steve found himself standing in Alexander Pierce’s office for his debriefing. 

It was a sharp contrast: his bloodied, ripped uniform against Pierce’s fancy suit. His boots had left dirty prints on the polished floor and judging by the way Pierce had wrinkled his nose when he’d entered Steve was pretty sure he smelled like sweat and smoke and gunpowder. 

Pierce listened with a satisfied smile as Steve gave his mission report on the battle. All their enemies were dead or captured, and the few still trying to resist were being dealt with in those very moments. Hydra had won. 

“One last thing before you go, Captain.” Pierce sat back in his chair, hands folded at the very edge of his desk. “The Asset has done its job, we have no use for such a weapon in Hydra’s new world. Take care of it, please.” 

Steve nodded, suppressing a smile: for a politician, sometimes Pierce tended to choose his words very poorly. “Of course, sir.” He saluted and left the office, leaving the door open. 

The Winter Soldier was a thing of beauty. He was strong, dangerous and deadly, yes. But he was also graceful, precise and efficient. He never messed up – and the few times he had, it’d been because of poor intel or crappy handling. True, sometimes he became erratic and turned on his handlers, but that was just because they didn’t treat him with the care he needed and deserved. Steve had known all that the very first time he’d seen him, and he’d been smitten ever since. 

Pierce’s decision to terminate the Winter Soldier was one of his greatest mistakes, but luckily Steve had no intention of letting it happen. And he wouldn’t even need to disobey orders. 

When he reached the secret vault where the Winter Soldier was usually kept and treated after a mission, he found him strapped in the Chair with half a dozen guards around, keeping watch. There were a couple doctors and a technician too, but no one was doing anything despite the fact that the Winter Soldier was bleeding from at least two bullet holes and his left arm was sparkling. 

Everyone jumped at attention as soon as Steve entered the room. 

“Why haven’t you treated those wounds?” he asked calmly, a cold bite to his words that made the agents jump to answer: 

“Captain, sir, the Director told us it wouldn’t be necessary. Said we just had to wait for you, sir.” 

Steve looked at her, frowning. She had some scratches on her cheek and blood on her uniform, as did the other agents. A couple of them were limping or leaning on one leg; it was clear they’d fought all day just like Steve. “You’re dismissed. All of you agents. Go home, rest.” He glanced at the doctors and the technician, who had probably spent the whole day holed up in there. “You stay.” 

He approached the Soldier next, walking to him until he was standing close enough to touch. “Status report?” 

\---

The Asset catalogued the injuries its body has sustained during the fight. It’d been shot three times: left leg, left side, right shoulder. The bullet in its leg was still inside its body. Both its arms were broken, along with three ribs and its right ankle. Its muscles still ached from when the Widow had electrocuted it, but that was just a minor inconvenience. 

It reported everything. The Captain was not its handler, but its handler was dead and the Captain was one of Hydra’s heads – even if the other heads hadn’t realized it yet. The Asset had to obey. 

When it had finished the Captain nodded, mouth pressed in a thin displeased line. The Asset wondered if it would be punished for sustaining too much damage. 

“You did very well today, Soldier.” Instead of punishing it the Captain laid a hand on its arm, touched it: a rare reward. “It was also thanks to you that Hydra won, your work had been indispensable all these years. And now Hydra doesn’t need your help anymore.” 

The Asset nodded, because it knew what those words meant. It was being decommissioned. It felt almost happy that it was the Captain doing it, the Captain was practical and fair and would kill it quickly, maybe even painlessly – _almost_ happy, because the Asset was not supposed to feel things. 

But then the Captain did something wonderful: he cupped its face, skin to skin, allowing it to feel the warmth of his touch. The Asset couldn’t help but lean towards that warmth. “I’ll take care of you from now on,” the Captain promised, very seriously, meeting the Asset’s gaze. “No more missions, no more killing unless you want to.” 

The Asset didn’t understand, but of course it couldn’t say so to the Captain. It nodded instead. 

“Good.” The Captain gently patted its cheek – not a slap, not even close – and stepped back, waving the doctors forward. “Let’s get you fixed and then I’ll take you home.” 

_ Home _ turned out to be a cottage on the edge of a small lake. 

The Asset followed the Captain to the porch, confused but not daring to admit it. Its injuries had been treated and it’d been told to change in different clothes, clothes that were soft and comfortable but offered no protection in a fight. The Captain was wearing a similar outfit and carrying a large duffel bag on his shoulder. There was another duffel bag in the car, and a large suitcase. The Asset didn’t know what they contained – maybe equipment for a new mission. 

The cottage didn’t look like a standard base of operations, but Hydra’s safe houses never looked like one. If there was something Hydra knew how to do well, it was blending in. 

“Nice, mh?” the Captain said, patting the front door a couple of times and grinning back towards the Asset. His eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses, making it impossible to read them and know if the question was rhetorical or if he actually expected an answer. 

The Asset stayed quiet. 

After a long moment the Captain sighed, like maybe it had disappointed him by not reacting. He grabbed a set of keys from the front pocket of his shorts and opened the door. “Come on in.” 

The inside of the house was warm and clean, golden wood all around, decorated with practical furniture that somehow was also aesthetically pleasing. The Captain left the duffel bag on the floor beside the front door and gave the Asset a small smile: 

“Come, I’ll give you a tour.” 

\---

The truth was, Steve needed a break. A break from active missions and killing and ordering people around. He would go back in a heartbeat if Hydra – _not_ Pierce, _not_ Zemo or von Strucker, _Hydra_ – needed him, but for the moment he could enjoy a nice holiday. And he had taken the Soldier with him, of course – he didn’t trust Pierce not to try and kill him while Steve was away. 

The infamous Winter Soldier looked a bit like a lost puppy, following Steve’s steps around the house and looking at everything with a blank gaze and furrowed brows. Steve showed him the living room and the kitchen, the two bedrooms and bathrooms, the little studio and the back door that led straight to the lake. There was a small dock, too, but no boats. 

Steve knew the Soldier wouldn’t behave like a normal man, really, he knew. The fact that he was barely responding shouldn’t have disappointed him, it wasn’t fair. He hoped that with time he would be able to elicit a reaction in the Soldier – a _positive_ one. Because Steve knew how to incite fear. He knew how to inflict pain. 

He’d witnessed the punishments some handlers had seen fit to assign to the Soldier. He’d seen the gratuitous cruelty, the random acts of violence. No wonder the Soldier had sometimes turned around and killed his handlers, if that was how he’d been treated for all those decades. 

He didn’t want _that_ for the confused, beautiful man in front of him. 

“Are you hungry?” 

The Soldier looked at him blankly, like there was no difference between a concrete wall and Steve. “I’m functional, sir.” 

Steve nodded. He had no doubt the Soldier was functional despite his still-healing wounds, but that wasn’t what he’d asked. “Alright, I’ll cook you something nice. Some vegetables too, you look like you need ‘em.” He went into the kitchen, the Soldier following a few steps behind. Steve sensed he wanted to say something, maybe even _ask_ something, but it wasn’t until they were eating lunch at the kitchen table that the Soldier spoke up: 

“Sir, what’s my mission?” 

It was an expected question, so Steve didn’t have to struggle to keep his expression in check. “It’s a really unusual mission,” he admitted, and saw an anxious spark in the Soldier’s eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. While we’re here, your mission is to rest, heal, relax, and enjoy this vacation.” 

The Soldier frowned. “I don’t understand, sir.” 

“It’s okay, I know it’s your first time trying something like this. It’s mine, too, so I guess we’ll try out being civilians together.” Steve smiled at him, almost chuckling at the puzzled expression on the Soldier’s face. “We’ll figure it out. Now eat your vegetables.” 

The Soldier ate his vegetables. 

\---

It figured out pretty quickly that the Captain was not a typical handler. He didn’t order the Asset around and he didn’t expect things, didn’t expect it to spontaneously know what he wanted like so many handlers had done in the past. 

He still hadn’t asked the Asset to kill anyone, and that was _highly_ unusual. But the Captain had also said that Hydra had won, and that the Asset wasn’t needed anymore. And yet, it was still alive. 

It didn’t understand. 

Clearly the Captain wanted _something_ from it, had some reason for keeping it alive. Maybe he wanted to use the Asset against the other heads. Maybe he was planning to overthrow them and take the reins of Hydra once and for all, and the Asset had a part in his plan. It couldn’t know. 

But something, something deep inside its mind, insisted that the Captain was a good handler. That he wouldn’t hurt it. Those were dangerous thoughts, but the Asset couldn’t help itself. It hoped. 

  



	2. Chapter 2

They weren’t very good at being civilians. 

The Asset vaguely knew what civilians did with their time, that knowledge a hazy leftover lingering from his many missions out in the world, but it was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to wake up at dawn to go run twenty miles in the forest. After that they took a shower, then breakfast. Then the Captain sat on the edge of the dock to read, legs dangling just above the cool water, while the Asset stayed in the house to clean its guns and sharpen its knives. 

Lunch. The Captain worked on his laptop while the Asset stared at nothing. In the afternoon they always sparred. Usually the Captain won, but sometimes the Asset succeeded in pinning him to the ground or in catching him in an unbreakable hold. 

The first time that had happened the Asset had instantly released the Captain from the chokehold it had caught him in and stood, awaiting punishment for having manhandled a Commanding Officer. It didn’t matter that they had been sparring – in the past it had _never_ mattered, the Asset wasn’t supposed to push around a handler or, worst of all, to pin them in a vulnerable position. 

But the Captain had just laughed and patted it on the shoulder, congratulating it on its skills and saying that maybe the next day he’d have more luck. 

The Captain let it keep its victory, if it managed to beat him. Once it had realized that, sparring quickly became the Asset’s favorite activity. 

After dinner, the Captain usually put some movie on and sat on the couch. He always invited the Asset to sit with him. It could tell the Captain wasn’t really interested in what was going on in the movie, no matter what movie it was; it was like he was doing an effort to follow them but couldn’t force himself to care. 

As soon as the movie ended they went to sleep in separate rooms. 

The Asset had never had a room all for itself, it didn’t really know what to do with all that space. Privacy was also a new concept for it, but it adapted. More and more of those dangerous, forbidden thoughts emerged the longer it stayed in the house by the lake with the Captain. 

After just a week it began to have likes and dislikes. It began to have _opinions_ – on food, in particular. It liked most fruits but especially plums and strawberries, and didn’t like cucumbers, onions and lamb. Bananas tasted weird. Drinking milk made his brain tingle. Sweet things were the best – it _loved_ pancakes. 

Sometimes the Captain asked what it would like to eat, and it was allowed to answer. And the Captain always cooked up whatever the Asset had chosen. It was never a trick. When the Captain said things, he _meant_ them. 

But it was more than that. 

The Captain spoke to it as if it was a real person. He asked for its opinion, and actually listened if it replied. Minded its space. Granted it freedoms it had never been able to even _dream_ before. He treated the Asset as an equal. 

And the Asset was beginning to think that maybe, _maybe_, that was okay.

\---

Steve woke to screaming. 

In a heartbeat he was on his feet, a gun in his hand, crouched low beside the bed and looking around to pinpoint the source of the noise: it was coming from the Soldier’s room. He sprinted, throwing open the door and crossing the short hallway to the other bedroom, reached for the doorknob and faltered. 

He’d never been in the Soldier’s room. He’d made a point of always respecting his privacy and his spaces. He’d _told_ him he wouldn’t go into his room. 

In the end he pushed the door open but stayed there on the threshold. 

Sitting on the floor with his legs hugged to his chest and his back to the bed, the Soldier flinched. A second later he was jumping on his feet, roughly scrubbing at his face to erase the tear tracks glinting on his cheeks. He was trembling, head bowed. “I’m s-sorry sir. I didn’t mean-” 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, cutting off whatever apology the Soldier was going to make. 

The Soldier jerked, clearly shocked by the question, and looked up. His eyes were wide, scared, haunted. He didn’t say anything, and Steve patiently waited. After what felt like minutes, the Soldier let out a shaky sigh and whispered, like it was a dirty secret: “I dream.” 

It took Steve a moment to realize that the Soldier expected to be punished for that. Rage burned in his chest but he kept it down, knowing it would only be misunderstood. “Of course you do,” he said, in the calmest voice he could manage. “Everyone dreams. You can’t control that.” 

“The chair can,” the Soldier whispered, lips trembling, something raw and desperate in his expression. 

“I will _not_ put you back in that thing.” Steve regretted how forcefully he had uttered the words, but he thought they’d been clear on that. No chair, no cryosleep, no missions. 

The Soldier flinched again but then, miraculously, he relaxed. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” Steve repeated with a nod. They stood there for a few moments more, just looking at each other. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” He’d barely finished the sentence and the Soldier was already shaking his head. “Alright. What about a snack?” 

Looking a bit unsure, the Soldier nodded. They moved to the kitchen, and Steve put together a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and two mugs of hot cocoa. He knew he’d done the right thing when the Soldier’s eyes lit up with hopeful expectation as soon as he saw the chocolate. 

“You wanna talk about the dream?” Steve asked, and was not surprised when the Soldier shook his head. “Okay. I was thinking about going for a swim in the morning, instead of the usual run. You up for it?” He already knew the metal arm wouldn’t give him problems in the water, but maybe the other man simply didn’t want to join him. 

The Soldier nodded, both hands wrapped around the mug. “Sounds good, sir.” They still had to work on that _sir_ thing, but one thing at a time. 

As soon as the sun was up they went swimming in the lake. The water was chilly but Steve barely cared, too busy noticing the small smile on the Soldier’s lips. The other man had almost completely relaxed at some point between the hot cocoa and the lake, and was now cutting through the water like it was a competition, a bit too focused. 

Steve swam closer, almost in front of him, and splashed him in the face. The Soldier’s shocked expression startled a laugh out of Steve, so he splashed him again. 

He hadn’t expected the Soldier splashing him back and he spluttered, laughing as he shook the water out of his eyes. He caught a flash of worry in the Soldier’s expression just a moment before it disappeared into a blank mask, so he made sure to smile and keep his voice light as he said: “That’s how it’s gonna go, uh?” And splashed him once more. 

They played like that for a little while, swimming around in the small lake and splashing each other. There was a spark of amusement in the Soldier’s eyes, something warm and precious that Steve needed to see again. He felt the impulse to grab the Soldier and push him under, like he’d done as a boy playing in the water with his friends; but the Soldier would probably just go limp and let Steve drown him. So he didn’t. 

The grass around the house was soft and still slightly damp from the morning’s dew; Steve lay there, eyes closed, and after a minute he felt the Soldier lie down nearby. He almost asked if he felt better now, but at the last moment he stayed quiet because he didn’t want to remind him of the nightmare. So instead he relaxed in the grass, idly listening to the chirping of the birds and the gentle shivering of leaves all around them, and hoped the Soldier was doing the same. 

His doze was interrupted by the insistent ringing of a phone – his phone. The one that wasn’t supposed to ring at all unless there was an emergency. 

Steve was on his feet and sprinting into the house in less than a second. He grabbed the phone, placed on the dining table and still ringing, and accepted the call: “Rogers.” 

“Good morning, Captain. I trust your little vacation is going well.” It was Pierce. His tone was one of polite interest – he didn’t sound worried or hurried _at all_. Steve was already annoyed with him. 

“What happened?” he asked, pausing in the living room when normally he’d have gone to put on his uniform. He noticed the Soldier entering the room right after him, eyes blank. 

“Nothing has happened, Captain. Not yet, at least.” Pierce was surely taking his sweet time to explain the reason for that call. Knowing he was probably trying to make him impatient, Steve bit down on his retort and waited. After a moment, Pierce continued: “You see, I’m well aware that you didn’t put down the Asset and instead took it as your… trophy. It’s quite alright Captain, in fact you did well. As it turned out, we still need it for one last mission.” 

Steve couldn’t help the sneer that blossomed on his face – he barely managed to keep it from bleeding into his voice. “What mission? I was under the impression that Hydra didn’t need _missions _anymore, as we now have the Helicarriers to take care of problems.” 

“Just a quick little thing,” Pierce said, almost condescending. “Then you’ll get your little toy back, you have my word.” 

In the corner of the room, near the door, the Soldier was staring straight ahead. His expression was blank, his eyes dull. He seemed to have lost every trace of life he’d acquired in the last weeks. Thanks to the serum flowing in his veins he could undoubtedly hear every single word of that conversation. 

Watching him, Steve felt cold rage burn in his chest. “This doesn’t sound like an urgent matter,” he stated very clearly, and then talking over Pierce’s immediate reply: “I will call you back before this hour is over.” And he ended the call.

\---

The Captain put the phone down and the Asset stood straighter, at attention. 

“I will get ready for the mission, sir,” it said in a monotone, almost mechanical voice. “Are my uniform and my weapons here, sir, or should I head to the Washington base to retrieve them?” 

“They’re here,” the Captain answered, eyes never straying from the Asset’s face. “But you don’t have to go.” 

The Asset’s heart skipped a beat before immediately going back to normal – it hoped the Captain didn’t hear that. It couldn’t show hesitation or, worst of all, disobedience. Still, it was secretly confused. “Sir?” 

“No more missions unless you wanted to, I promised that.” 

It made no sense. The Asset didn’t _want_. It could only listen to its handlers and obey. Yes, maybe it could entertain some silly preferences on foods and activities, but that was just because the Captain was so kind. A mission was a completely different matter. “I will comply, sir.” 

For some reason, the Captain looked resigned and not happy at all. “Are you sure?” 

Why was he so insistent? Was it a test? But _why_ was the Captain testing it, it’d been so good for him! It wasn’t fair. The Asset lowered its eyes, feeling hollow. “I will comply, sir.” 

The Captain _still _didn’t seem happy, but at least he stopped with his confusing questions and allowed the Asset to obey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suspense!   
Please don't be angry :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking of maybe creating a tumblr so I have a place to post ideas I will probably never develop and discuss plots with people who are interested, but I'm not sure. Should I do that?

After debriefing, the Asset was taken not to its usual cell – where they stored it between missions – or put in cryosleep, but instead it was loaded in a van and told to sit quietly. 

It stared blankly at the wall for eight hours, trying desperately not to focus on how much its head was hurting, on its locked-up muscles or the pains in its body. They hadn’t taken off its uniform, and it was pretty sure it was bleeding sluggishly from the stab wound in its side and from the bullet hole in its thigh. They weren’t life-threatening wounds, so the technicians hadn’t treated them. 

The van stopped and a few moments later one of the two agents opened the back doors, waving at the Asset. “Get out, Soldier,” he ordered, before looking back over his shoulder. “Cap will _not _be happy,” he murmured to his companion. Both agents looked really nervous. 

“Let’s hope he doesn’t take it out on us,” she replied, lips thinning in a forced smile. “If it comes down to it, between Pierce and the Captain _I_ know which side I’m on.” 

“Yeah, me too.” He glanced at the Asset. “Fuck, they didn’t even patch him up or anything. Pierce sent us here to die.” The agent sighed, then closed the van’s doors and turned around. “Alright, let’s go, Soldier. Cap surely heard us coming from a mile away.” 

They approached a house on the edge of a small lake. Looking at it, the Asset felt a stab of pain in its head for some reason. Maybe it’d been there already, in the past. A blond man was waiting on the porch, arms crossed on his chest and a deep frown wrinkling his forehead. The Asset knew who he was: the Captain, one of Hydra’s most powerful commanders. It was not surprised to see him; it remembered Pierce’s orders: “You will go to the Captain and be his good little toy. You will observe him very carefully, and be ready to report to me.” 

So, the Asset was to spy on the Captain. Something in its chest ached for no apparent reason. 

“Captain, sir.” The agents saluted. “We-” 

The Captain cut her off, voice cold as his eyes studied the Soldier’s body inch by inch: “Is he injured?” 

“Director Pierce prohibited everyone from cleaning or treating him, sir. And, sir, we’re sorry sir, but Director Pierce insisted on wiping him.” 

Violent rage deformed the Captain’s features; the Asset flinched and then went completely still. Both agents took a step back. 

“Sir-” 

“Go.” The Captain stepped forward, put a firm hand on the Asset’s shoulder. “Get out of my sight. And tell Pierce I don’t _appreciate_ his methods.” 

“Yes, sir. Hail Hydra, sir.” 

“Hail Hydra. Now go.” 

The two agents retreated, and a few moments later the Asset heard the sound of the van driving away. The Captain watched the road until they were gone, then turned his serious expression – anger still burning behind his eyes – back to the Asset. 

“Let’s go inside. Where are you hurt?” 

“I’m functional, sir,” the Asset said, trying to prove itself to the Captain – because for some reason it _wanted_ to. It wanted to prove that it was not weak. That it was not a burden. “Medical assistance is not necessary, sir.” 

“I’ll be the one to decide that, alright?” Even as he said it, the Captain didn’t sound annoyed or even exasperated. If anything, he sounded concerned. That helped ease the tension in the Asset’s chest. “Come in now, follow me.” 

And so the Asset followed inside the house, feeling really weird, like maybe it’d been there before even if it couldn’t remember. Echoes of a memory resonated in its brain as he walked on the wooden floor. It instinctively knew that the fridge was always stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables. It knew that the couch on the living room was comfortable. It knew there was a bedroom through the door they were approaching and that the bed was firm but pleasant, and there were clothes in the closet that it could use; and then there was a bathroom with a large white tub and sweet-smelling soaps. 

The Captain led it straight to the bathroom, turned to face it. “Where are your wounds?” he asked as he took a first-aid kit from the bottom drawer. 

Without hesitation, the Asset undressed and showed itself to the Captain for inspection. 

Some people got weird when the Asset was naked. Uncomfortable but not quite like that, in a way the Asset didn’t really understand. The Captain wasn’t like those people: his eyes didn’t shy away but they didn’t roam freely either, instead they focused on the damage and the blood, with so much concern and a hint of anger. 

For some reason, his anger didn’t scare the Asset. There was nothing to be afraid of. 

“Sit down, please.” The Captain gestured to the edge of the bathtub, and the Asset promptly obeyed. The ceramic was cold under its skin, but not unpleasant. The thing that almost made it shiver was the Captain’s gentle touch as he tended to its wounds. 

No one ever touched it like that – like the Asset was something precious that _deserved_ kindness and attention. It could barely keep itself from trembling. It felt immensely relieved when the Captain eventually stepped back. It’d just been wiped and it was malfunctioning already. Now it knew why Director Pierce wanted to decommission it after this one last mission. 

The Captain smiled and its stomach fluttered. “Alright, take a shower and then I’ll wrap those wounds. They should be healed in a few days, but better safe than sorry.” He smiled again, so very gently, briefly touched the Asset’s arm as if he was reassuring it and left the bathroom, closing the door and leaving a confused, miserable Asset behind. 

\---

Steve was _fuming_. It had been so difficult to push down his absolute _rage_ while he was near the Soldier, but he hadn’t wanted to scare him so he’d managed it. Now all he wanted was to break something – or, preferably, _someone_’s face. 

How _dare_ Pierce take the Soldier from him and _wipe_ him. It was clear he was trying to affirm his power, show Steve that _he_ was in command. He’d probably given the Soldier orders to spy him or something similar. Maybe even to attack Steve – even if he doubted that Pierce would go as far, but if Steve got killed he could always blame it on a “malfunction” of the Soldier. 

Pierce wasn’t a good leader: he was cunning and smart, yes, but he was also selfish and arrogant. He didn’t care for the people beneath him – sending those two agents to give back the Soldier, probably expecting Steve to kill them in anger, was proof of that. 

Wiping the Soldier just to spite Steve had been the last straw. 

Pierce was one of Hydra’s heads, but Hydra didn’t need Pierce. And Steve was determined to take care of that as soon as possible – he just had to wait for the right opportunity to present itself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know, but I promise the next will be longer - and lighter, probably!  
Please let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer... hope you'll enjoy!

Slowly, things went back to normal. Kind of. 

Steve had expected the Soldier to go back to the initial blank-eyed hesitation of the beginning, the non-answers and non-reactions. Instead, he quickly realized he was more expressive than ever – especially his eyes, which had basically become a window to his thoughts. 

He knew it was probably because of whatever orders Pierce had given him, and the thought made his blood boil. But maybe that last wipe had cracked something in the careful programming Hydra had drilled in the Soldier’s head. 

Unfortunately, despite Steve trying to be as kind and gentle as possible, the emotions the Soldier seemed to feel were mostly negative. Even for the simpler things. Steve was really doing his best to make him feel comfortable and safe, but if anything he always seemed to be making the Soldier even more miserable. 

“What would you like to eat?” he asked as lunchtime approached, smiling encouragingly at the other man. He waited a few moments before looking away from the insides of the fridge, and just like he’d expected he met the Soldier mildly panicked gaze. “What about steak?” he proposed. 

The Soldier instantly nodded. “Sounds really good, sir.” His speech pattern seemed more relaxed now, more casual, a sharp contrast with how careful he actually was with everything. He was clearly trying to please Steve, and every single time Steve realized that his hatred for Pierce burned more and more ferociously. All it took was _thinking_ of the man and his hands automatically curled into fists. 

“Do you like it?” he asked once they were eating, and barely kept down a sigh when the Soldier nodded without hesitation. “It’s okay if you don’t,” he said, for what felt like the millionth time. “It’s okay to ask for something different if you don’t like what I propose.” 

“It’s delicious, sir,” the Soldier hastily replied, looking alarmed. “You’re a really good cook, sir.” 

Steve hid his anger behind a smile.

\---

The Asset was messing everything up. 

Director Pierce had given it a very clear, straightforward mission, and yet it was messing it up. It tried so hard to appease the Captain, to be obedient and subservient and pliant, but everything it did seemed to annoy him if not outright anger him. The Asset had seen the Captain’s eyes flash with rage so many times it was a wonder he had not yet decided to punish it. 

Instead, the Captain still treated it with the kindness and infinite patience of that first day when he’d taken care of its wounds. As if the Asset deserved it. It made _no sense_. 

And, as if _that_ wasn’t enough, something was wrong in the Asset’s head. It kept having dreams of another life in that same house, with the Captain, little flashes that felt like memories. Drinking hot cocoa. Swimming in the lake. Watching movies sitting on the couch, at the Captain’s side. Sparring, and daring to win. The Captain promising “_no more missions_”. 

Well, if that last one was true, the Captain had clearly lied. But again, what did it matter if the Captain had promised something and lied? 

Despite those treacherous thoughts, or maybe because of them, the Asset was aware enough to notice things as they happened. It noticed patterns, mostly: how there was often anger in the Captain’s eyes when he interacted with the Asset, yes, but the anger always followed a brief flash of disappointed. As if the Captain had wanted a different reaction from it. An opinion. 

Flashes of _asking for things_ floated in its malfunctioning mind, absurd and impossible. In those stupid little fantasies, the Captain never got angry. He always humored the Asset’s requests. 

It was dangerous, and incredibly idiotic, and a sure way to be horrendously punished, but… the Asset began to _wonder_. 

And one day, much to its horror, that wonder took the form of a simple question, an answer to the Captain’s usual “what would you like to eat?”: 

“Can we have pancakes?” 

The Asset froze as soon as the words escaped its mouth, horrified. The Captain paused half-way through reaching into the fridge and looked at it, eyes wide; the Asset couldn’t help a flinch. There were no harsh words. No orders to stand up and face its rightful punishment. Just a bright smile that spread on the Captain’s face, and a nod. 

“Of course we can,” the Captain said, already grabbing the ingredients. “Would you like to help?” 

Jerkily, the Asset stood up and approached the kitchen counter. 

There were no repercussions for that incident. The Asset kept expecting something to happen, _anything_, but evening came around and no punishments were given. And the Captain wasn’t a man that liked psychological torture, the Asset knew that much. 

Lying awake that night, it slowly accepted that no punishment was coming. 

That meant that asking for things – expressing preference – was allowed. And if _those_ flashes were true, did that mean that the others were as well? 

After that realization, the Asset began to try things. It was foolish, it knew, but the Captain never seemed eager to punish it. In just a few days it discovered that not only could it ask for specific foods or dishes, it could also propose activities and take books to read by itself or movies to watch on the living room television, even if the Captain wasn’t interested in them. But, more wonderful and astonishing than that, _it could_ _say no_. 

And the Captain would immediately stop and drop whatever question the Asset had answered no to – instead of asking it again or hit the Asset for daring to refuse him. 

It was unheard of. 

The Asset didn’t abuse that privilege, afraid that eventually the Captain would get annoyed with it and take all those little freedoms away. But it dared a little more each day, partly because it was a wonderful thing it wanted to enjoy until it lasted, but also because some part of it wanted to find the snapping point, wanted to push until the Captain finally lost his patience and punished it. At least then it would know how much was really allowed. 

And when it was almost sure it was approaching that point, the Captain surprised and shocked it: 

“Do you remember your name?” 

The Asset straightened on its chair, putting down the fork: it clattered hitting the plate, filling the suddenly heavy air with noise for a moment. “The Asset does not remember anything that isn’t necessary to the mission.” 

“But that’s not true.” The Captain frowned. “You’re remembering things, aren’t you? Things from our first weeks here.” He didn’t look angry or accusing, but the Asset was having trouble deciphering his expression. Curious maybe? Hopeful? It didn’t make sense. “You’re having dreams, right?” 

Its heart was pounding. “I will submit myself to the wipe, sir,” it said, voice croaking. “I will comply, sir.” It hoped it would be allowed back there in the cottage. It hoped that, once wiped, it wouldn’t malfunction again. It hoped that when the Captain realized his Asset was useless and broken, he would end it swiftly and painlessly. 

But the Captain looked horrified. He schooled his expression a moment later. “No wipes,” he said, voice firm. “Never again. And be assured that I’ll get back to Pierce for what he did to you.” 

So that was it. The Captain wanted revenge on the Director for having touched what was his. The Asset knew it had to report that intention, the Director had explicitly ordered it to let him know if the Captain showed any hostility toward him. But the Asset… didn’t _want_ to. 

“Please, answer me honestly.” Why was the Captain _pleading_? The Asset felt so unsettled and confused, both because of the Captain’s strange behavior and its own feelings. “Do you remember your name?” 

The Asset bit its lip hard enough to almost draw blood. Its thoughts were swirling in its head, dreams and scattered memories flashing, fighting each other and Hydra’s programming. It was barely aware of its breathing quickening, the tight feeling in its chest, its heart pounding. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Something touched its shoulder and the Asset flinched, then went still and waited to be grabbed and dragged to the Chair. It was malfunctioning so bad, they just _had _to wipe it. Strong arms wrapped around its body, restraining it – no, not quite. They weren’t tight enough to restrain. The Captain was… holding it. He was holding the Asset close to his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” the Captain murmured, and he sounded genuinely sorrowful. “I didn’t mean to upset you. The last thing I want is to hurt you, in any way. I promise I’ll stop pushing, okay?” 

Things weren’t going like they were supposed to. The Captain wasn’t supposed to _apologize. _Or to hold the Asset so gently and carefully. And the Asset wasn’t supposed to cry. But it was. _He_ was. 

There were voices in his head. The ghost of a memory, someone holding him just like the the Captain was doing in that moment. And the Asset’s lips moved, helplessly, his shaking voice spelled out: 

“James.” He took a deep, trembling breath. “My name was James.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And James is making progress! I really like this chapter, even if it was really hard to write. I just hope things don't seem too rushed.   
Well, let me know what you think! I'd love to discuss my work :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys realize some things about themselves and their relationship.  
Also, Director Pierce makes a courtesy call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is mostly an introspective chapter.  
Hope it won't be boring!

James was recovering more and more memories as days passed. Steve knew that, because he was woken up every other night by his painful screams. 

After that first time he hadn’t barged in James’ room again, and instead took the habit to knock on the door and ask if he could come in. Sometimes the answer was no, and Steve retired to his room – not to sleep, mostly he worried in silence and felt guilty because it was Hydra that had caused that beautiful man so much pain. Sometimes James said yes, and Steve sat with him on the bed and asked if he wanted to talk about his nightmares. The answer to that was always no. 

During the day, James was getting more… Steve didn’t know exactly how to describe it, he wasn’t even sure if the other man was doing it intentionally. But he found that James sat a little bit closer to him on the couch in the evenings while they were watching whatever movie James had chosen. He sometimes brushed against Steve, casually enough that it just _had_ to be deliberate. 

And then, one night, after a nightmare that seemed worse than the others, James let Steve into his room and stepped really close to him, his whole body so still it was concerning. He was standing a breath away, face turned down, bottom lip bitten red. Steve kept still, unsure of what was happening. Only when James let out a trembling sigh and made to step away he understood. 

He wrapped his arms around James and gently held him against his chest. The tension in the other man’s body instantly disappeared, and the feared Winter Soldier melted in Steve’s hug. 

After that, James didn’t hesitate to sit even closer to Steve during the day, their legs and arms often touching, fingers brushing at random moments. Steve accepted all that, and never pushed for anything more. But at night, after James let him in his room, still sweaty and trembling from the latest nightmare, Steve was always ready to take him in his arms and hold him until James withdrew – or, sometimes, until he fell back asleep in Steve’s arms. 

Steve loved every single moment of it, even as his heart ached for more. But he knew he needed to follow James’ pace. It wouldn’t be right to do anything but that. 

Sometimes, in the dark and quiet of a post-nightmare hug, James asked questions. 

“Sir?” His face was hidden against Steve’s chest. “Why did you take me if you won’t use me?” 

Slowly, reluctantly, Steve loosened the hug so he could lift up James’ chin and meet his eyes. “You are a beautiful piece of work. It was due time you were treated with the care you deserve.” 

James didn’t seem to understand that. He frowned, looked away. 

“You’re the perfect killing machine, yes.” Steve gently nudged him. “But it’s not only that. I like you, James. You can go whenever and wherever you want, of course, just say it and I’ll make it happen. But I’d be grateful if you choose to stay here, with me.” 

James stayed quiet, and Steve let the subject drop. 

Later that day, in the afternoon, James proposed swimming in the lake. Of course, Steve was happy to humor him. 

The water was cool and pleasant, especially with the approaching summer and the temperatures rising each day a little bit more. They did a couple laps, then Steve got predictably distracted as soon as James began splashing water in his face. He splashed back, laughing, feeling light and happy – that was happening more and more often, that feeling of contentment, especially when he was with James. Steve was pretty sure he was falling in love with the man. 

He’d never thought that love could happen to him. He knew, deep in his soul, that he was not a good man. He also believed that sometimes bad things needed to be done for the greater good, and that was why he’d found himself where he was now and regretted nothing. Still, love was something else. Something he knew he couldn’t fight. 

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed James swimming closer – close enough that his hands were on Steve’s shoulder, his face a breath away. 

“You want me,” he said, matter-of-factly. His eyes were searching Steve’s face, anxious and confused, looking for an answer to the ever-present question. 

Steve smiled. “I don’t want my partners unwilling.” He took James’ right hand, moving it against his own lips, and placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “I’m content with what I have now.” 

For a long moment, James just stared at him. Then he pulled his hand out of Steve’s hold and swam away, heaving himself out of the water and on the dock. He disappeared inside the house. 

James kept to himself all day, seemingly thoughtful. Steve left him his space. He didn’t regret a word he’d told him, even if he wondered what the other man was thinking about. 

\---

When the phone began ringing, James was expecting it: more than a month had passed from when the Director had given the Asset its mission, and he surely wanted to reap what he’d sown. 

The Captain smiled tightly as he answered the call, a flash of teeth and eyes burning with cold rage: “Rogers.” 

“Good afternoon, Captain.” The Director’s polite voice made dread coil around James’ stomach. He sounded so calm, so composed. Like nothing could touch him. “I hope you won’t mind this little courtesy call, but you know, I’m getting quite worried that you have no intention of returning to your active role in our beloved Hydra.” 

“I will be present when and where there is need,” the Captain replied, voice perfectly controlled despite the anger that had taken over his whole expression and posture. “Or are you implying something, Alexander?” 

“I would never.” Faint annoyance slipped in the Director’s words. “I was merely worried, as I said. But I don’t like talking about such things over the phone, so why don’t you come to Washington and we can discuss it further?” 

James’ heart started beating faster. It was obviously a trap. Washington D.C. was the Director’s base, he was trying to trap the Captain and get rid of him. Surely the Captain could see that, surely he wouldn’t accept the offer…

“I don’t see why not,” the Captain said, and James’ hopes crashed to the ground. “I’m sure you won’t mind if I bring the Soldier with me, will you? He is due for some maintenance.” 

Betrayal surged along with despair. What did the Captain mean with that? He’d said he was content! What had James done now to disappoint him so much? 

The Director sounded surprised as he answered: “Of course, bring it along. My technicians will fix it for you. I’ll see you in…?” 

“A couple of days at most.” The Captain slowly smiled, and there was something in his eyes that made the Asset shiver. “I’ll let you know.” And he ended the call, without letting the Director say anything else. Then, the Captain turned to James, and his whole expression softened. “Don’t look so alarmed,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

The ice in James’ chest began to melt. “Sir?” He tried to relax, but it was difficult – hearing the Director’s voice, knowing that in a few days he would be back in his clutches, had put him on edge. “You have a plan, then?” 

The Captain smiled again. This time it was a small, fond thing. Not scary at all. “I’m sorry, dear. I know you have instructions to spy on me, so I won’t tell you anything.” 

Being called _dear_ caused a weird flutter in James’ gut. He felt warm, just for a moment, before worry settled in: the Captain knew he was to spy on him? Had he always known? Then why hadn’t he done anything? Why was he so calm? James nodded, disoriented. 

He didn’t draw back or even flinched when the Captain stepped closer, he just raised his head and met his eyes. He found, strangely, that he trusted the Captain. He trusted him to not do anything stupid, to not get himself killed just to challenge the Director’s power. And maybe, just maybe, he trusted the Captain to protect him, too. 

“Now I must ask you to go outside, where you can’t hear, while I make some phone calls. Can you do that?” 

James nodded. He couldn’t report to the Director what he didn’t know. 

“Thank you.” The Captain’s smile was warm. “I appreciate it.” 

James nodded one last time. He made to turn and go, but at the last moment he hesitated. Then he grabbed the Captain’s hand and raised it, pressing a fleeting kiss on his fingers. “Thank _you_,” he whispered, heart pounding, and left the house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be the last. I'm excited, but also kind of sad.  
Please let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierce has one last trick up his sleeve, but will it be enough?

James had never actually been in the Director office, but as he followed the Captain in he was not surprised to see a large room with floor-to-ceiling windows just behind an ornate wooden desk, cream-colored armchairs and a plush, untouched couch. The Director stood beside the desk and was pouring red whine in two crystal glasses. 

“Welcome, Captain Rogers,” he said, smiling pleasantly as the Captain approached. “May I offer you something to drink?” 

The Captain smiled back, just as politely. “Thank you Alexander, but I must decline.” He sat down on the armchair directly in front of the desk, his every movement radiating confidence. He waved James forward, inclined his head toward the chair near his own. Then, after James had placed himself on that chair, he looked back at the Director: “You wanted to discuss my role in Hydra, yes?” 

“That’s right.” The Director seemed taken aback by that behavior, but recovered quickly. He grabbed a glass and raised it to his lips, slowly sipped the wine. He was making the Captain wait, that much was clear. Too bad the Captain didn’t seem to be in a rush. Eventually, a moment before the silence could become heavy, the Director continued: 

“I worry, Captain,” he said, putting on a concerned expression. “You’ve been away from duty for a long time. How much longer will your little vacation last?” 

“I did not laze around, Alexander.” 

“Yes.” The Director smiled. “I know about your petty rebellion.” His cold eyes slid over to James, who kept his head down and his body carefully still. “Even if you treat it like a domesticated pet, the Asset is still our best weapon. I’m just trying to look out for you, Steven.” 

Steven. So _that_ was the Captain’s name. It seemed almost silly that, after all the time they had spent together in that house, James didn’t know the Captain’s first name – hadn’t even thought to ask. Steven Rogers. Steve. He liked it. 

“I’m glad to see you came to your senses and realized that the way you treat the Asset will inevitably cause malfunctions. Its programming gets confused, you see. It may begin to think it is a real person like you and me.” 

Steve’s jaw clenched minutely. James could see a swirl of rage sparkling in his eyes, in the tight angles of his mouth, in the way his body was unnaturally relaxed. He almost leaned forward, almost put a hand on Steve’s knee, almost nudged him with a foot – but the Director was watching, and so he didn’t. 

But then, Steve smiled. “You’re an arrogant man, Alexander,” he said, using the Director’s first name once again because it was clear it irritated him. “You’re smart, a good politician, but you’re no leader. Unfortunately, the time for politics is over.” He stood up, broad and threatening, muscled coiled with dangerous strength. 

James couldn’t remember the word that came out of the Director’s mouth, but it didn’t matter: his brain recognized it, and complied. A moment later he was moving, like a puppet whose strings had just been pulled, positioning himself between Steve and the Director. 

“Protect me,” the Director ordered as he, too, got up from his chair and stood behind his desk. “Kill the Captain if he approaches.” 

James couldn’t disobey that order. What was left of his programming was strong enough to keep him where he was, enough to make him assume a defensive position, enough to force him to study the Captain’s posture searching for weaknesses and the best way to kill him. He met Steve’s eyes and looked at him pleadingly, begging him to understand that he was not fighting him willingly. 

Steve didn’t seem surprised by the Director’s move. He kept on smiling, not a trace of uncertainty in his expression. “You think this will save you?” He stepped forward, and the Asset attacked. 

It had no weapons on itself, but there was a small letter opener on the Director’s desk and it grabbed it, moving quickly to push and stab the Captain in the vulnerable spot between his ribs. James pulled back with all his will, desperately trying to stop his own body from acting. Immense relief washed over him when Steve grabbed his wrist, blocking the blow. 

“I’m sorry, love,” Steve murmured, meeting James’ eyes with his own intense gaze. 

Somehow, James managed to get back control over his own body just enough to force out words: “It’s okay,” he whispered back. A part of him was scared, his heart beating too quickly and his breaths too shallow, but mostly he felt resigned. He’d lived longer than he probably deserved already. And he’d been happy, those last weeks. It was only right that Steve would be the one to do it. 

Something angry and sad burned in Steve’s eyes, gone a moment later. His voice stayed firm as he uttered a single word. 

Before James could realize what had happened, darkness swallowed him.

\---

As James began to crumple Steve grabbed him and gently eased him down on the floor. He took a moment to make sure he was alright, just unconscious; then he righted himself and grinned at the shocked expression on Pierce’s face. “You really thought you were the only one who knows his trigger words?” 

Pierce paled. “If you kill me you will never get out of here.” 

“You sure?” It felt so satisfying, watching the uncertainty creep on Pierce’s face. “As I said, you’re a politician. People may follow you, but they do not respect you. They are not loyal. Why don’t you call your soldiers, see for yourself that I’m right?” 

After a moment of hesitation, Pierce did just that. 

A dozen armed soldiers entered the room. And they promptly pointed their guns to Pierce’s head. His expression of betrayed shock was so beautiful, Steve almost laughed outright. 

“Is the building clear?” he asked, without looking away from Pierce. 

“Yes, sir. All those loyal to the Director had been captured or executed. We tried to make as few casualties as possible, as you ordered.” 

“Good, good.” Steve stalked forward, easily reaching the desk in just a couple of steps. On the other side of it, Pierce was standing proudly – but there was desperation glinting in his eyes, _fear_. “You know, Alexander, I wasn’t planning this. But your silly attempt at proving your power convinced me you’re no good for Hydra. I would’ve liked to spare you.” He extended a hand, and one of the soldiers behind him placed a gun in it. 

“Wait!” Pierce raised his hands and tried to step back, but before he could Steve leaned forward and grabbed him by the collar, hoisting him over the desk and throwing him unceremoniously to the floor – far from where James was laying, of course, he didn’t want that bastard to try and touch him. 

Pierce dragged himself on his knees, coughing, one hand outstretched toward Steve. 

A shot rang out and Pierce fell back, clutching his left leg. 

“You hurt my Soldier,” Steve gritted out, no longer smiling now but towering over the other man with a terrible, thunderous expression. “Sent him on a useless mission with the sole purpose of getting him hurt. Did you think I would let that slide?” He didn’t give Pierce the chance to answer: he raised the gun again and shot the bastard right in the chest, leaving him gasping and dying on the floor. 

“Take it away,” he ordered once the body had stopped moving. “I don’t care what you do with it.” 

Two soldiers grabbed Pierce and dragged him out of the office, the others trailing behind them. They already knew what to do, they had their orders. 

Steve had just established himself as one of Hydra’s heads, but that was the last thing on his mind in that very moment. He walked up to James, crouched over him and felt the hard ice in his chest slowly melting as he reached out a hand and swept a lock of dark hair away from the other’s face. 

James looked pained even in sleep, a furrow between his brows and his mouth tight. Steve remembered his quiet acceptance of just a few minutes ago. He’d thought that Steve was going to kill him. _It’s okay_, he’d told him. Steve could barely think about it without feeling crushing sadness weighting down on him. 

Heart heavy, he brushed the back of his fingers against James’ cheek. “You’re going to be okay,” he promised – and he was going to keep that promise, no matter the cost.

\---

His eyelids fluttered, soft light disturbing his rest. James rolled on his side, nuzzling the pillow. For once his sleep had been dreamless, and he wanted to enjoy it for as long as it was possible. 

A quiet chuckle coming from behind him made him startle, eyes flying open. The memory of what had happened crashed onto him. Washington D.C. The Director. His body moving to attack the Captain. Steve calling him “_love_”. 

James sat up, heartbeat quickening, and turned: Steve was sitting on the side of the bed, surrounded by golden light, smiling fondly at him. 

“Hi.” His smile, if possible, became even brighter. “How are you feeling?” 

“I…” James licked his lips. “I don’t understand.” 

“Pierce is gone. I personally made sure of that,” Steve said, serious, extending one hand but leaving it lying on the soft duvet between them. He smiled again when James gripped his fingers with his own. “I’m sorry I had to use a trigger word on you, love. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to that.” 

James shivered. Not because of the mention of his triggers, but because Steve had called him _love_ again. It felt good, warm. This time there were no negative emotions to dampen that feeling, and James had all the time in the world to enjoy it at its fullest. 

“It’s okay…” He swallowed the word _sir_ that instinctively rose on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he took a steading breath and finished with: “…love?” It sounded more like a question than a statement, small and uncertain, but the feeling was there. 

Steve beamed, eyes brightening. “I just did what was right.” It was as if he didn’t realize that he’d effectively freed James from the Director’s hold, once and for all. With Alexander Pierce died the trigger words, the wipes, the missions. He would accept all that from the Captain, but he knew deep inside that Steve would never do that to him again. 

James leaned forward, finding his place in Steve’s arms. “Thank you,” he said, trying to convey exactly how grateful he was. “_Thank you_.” 

Steve immediately hugged him back. “You’re welcome.” There was wonder in his voice. 

For a minute they just embraced each other in silence. Then, without breaking the hug, James asked: “What’s going to happen now?” 

“Not much.” Steve shrugged lightly. “I was thinking of cooking steak for dinner, maybe put together a couple dozen pancakes. What do you think?” 

It was absolutely not what James meant, but it didn’t matter. He smiled, resting his cheek on Steve’s shoulder. “I think that sounds wonderful.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end!   
Did you like how it ended? Would you have done something differently?   
It's been a fun adventure, thank you all for staying with me through it! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I know Hydra!Cap is not everyone's cup of tea, so thank you so much for giving this fic a chance.  
If you have a minute to spare and if you feel like it, please leave a comment and let me know what you liked, or what maybe you would've done differently. It's always fun to discuss ideas! :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Cottage By The Lake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23907739) by [Vaysh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaysh/pseuds/Vaysh)


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